On The Brightside
by BurningUpSuns
Summary: And now here she stood, on a cold dirty street in the middle of the night with no idea where she was. Life really had a nasty way of giving her what she asked for. Zoey heard a thunk, along with the sound of footsteps, accompanied by another thunk. Then she saw a flash of gold in the darkness... T for now. Spot Conlon story.
1. Hating on Biology

**Hiya! So I'm sorry to say that you won't get much of the newsies in this first chapter, but I'm writing the second one as we speak! Please leave me a review, especially if you don't like it, constructive criticism is best!**

 **And we begin...**

So what if she was going through an angst filled teenager phase? Every other teenager on the planet had gone through it at least several times, but of course, _no-_ Lilian Frederick's daughter could absolutely not have problems in life. It was unheard of. Lilian Frederick's daughter Zoey Frederick was perfect, and she had it all. Zoey Frederick had the grades, the hair, clothes, money, and of course a different boy declaring their 'love' for her every other afternoon.

Well Zoey had had enough of it. She was sick of playing nice with the other girls at prep school, and dressing nice for her father's business parties, and getting A's in Biology (which was what started this whole problem in the first place). All in all, Zoey was done pretending. Somehow her brain had seemed to sense her own fed-up-ness with life and for the first time ever Zoey failed a biology exam. Which brought her down a whole letter grade.

Some people may think that a B- in biology, one of the harder science classes at her school, wouldn't be that bad. A few may even think that she was lucky to get such a grade. Her mother was not one of the few. A long lecture about the future of their family business had ensued because of this. As if she'd need to know biology to run a business based in broadcasting the news of New York. As if she even wanted to run the over exaggerating, scheming, self involved and conceited people involved with her father's news station. As if- she sighed and tried to keep her mind blank.

Anyways, so Zoey sat in her room, with the door locked as she turned up her music a bit louder every time she heard her mother's whiny voice call for her. A stream of honest and soulful lyrics wove their way through Zoey as Never Shout Never's What is Love played on her iPod. Zoey loved indie bands, and basically any other music her mother may have deemed unworthy. Actually, it seemed that anything Zoey liked, no one else in her prep school had even heard of. Zoey fondly remembered when she had been obsessed with Doctor Who in middle school, but quickly stopped when one girl decided to make fun of her for it. Much the same had happened with anime, and her sci fi/adventure novels, as well as her alternative art phase.

A secret pleasure of hers though, that even her own mother didn't know much about was her musical collection, musical movies that is. Zoey had everything, thanks to her un-monitored credit card. Mama Mia, Les Mis, Rent, POTO, Chicago, Rocky Horror Picture Show, Grease, Sound of Music, she had everything she could get her hands on, with all the lyrics known to her by heart. A shelf took up part of her room, and posters of various art pieces and bands covered most of her walls. Another shelf held her large amount of books she owned. Though her plush bed spread was designer, it looked like it could fit in with her lifestyle as it was black with fake splashes of colored paints on it.

Zoey slowly took out her earphones when she no longer heard her mother calling for her. Shoving her ipod into her sweatpants pocket she opened her door slowly and listened for anyone in her large home. Zoey's mom had a meeting at seven tonight so she must have just left a few minutes ago to make it on time. Zoey knew that those types of meetings normally lasted a long time and had a large supply of alcohol, so it was a safe bet that no one would be home tonight.

Zoey's phone beeped twice and she unlocked it to check a message from her close friend Clarice, (who did not go to prep school.)

 **Hey bro, you coming tonight or what? Zander says it's gonna be bomb.**

Zoey quickly replied; _**Um, not sure. Mom took my keys…**_

Zoey sadly flopped onto her bed. She couldn't even successfully be a rebellious teenager, the one time she decided to go to a party she has no way to get there. Her phone beeped again with another message from Clarice.

 **I can maybe pick you up in a little while when Greg and I get some more supplies.**

Zoey grinned at the thought of whatever 'supplies' Clarice and Greg were planning on getting.

 _ **Awesome, what time?**_

 **9-ish I think.**

Zoey smiled gratefully, she knew that if she missed this Clarice would never have let her hear the end of it. Now what to do until she got here…

The answer in her mind was obvious, first, Zoey got into a dressy/casual outfit of warm black leggings- since it was almost winter- and a long loose navy blue shirt that was more like a dress. She threw on some converse and a black studded bracelet, then in over eagerness pulled on her black leather jacket so she could just walk out the door and leave whenever Clarice arrived, in case she came early. And yes, it did look a bit like the Ninth Doctor's jacket, what of it? After a moment of debate Zoey threw on a pair of casual black boots instead of the converse, since they would be warmer and more comfortable.

Checking to make sure her purse had all the essentials such as her driver's license, money, and other such stuff, Zoey also packed for an overnight stay, since she was sure everyone would be crashing at Zander's. In a small drawstring bag that she had once used for bring stuff to swim meets, Zoey packed a toothbrush, toothpaste, some pajama pants, travel size shampoo and conditioner, a makeup bag with cleansing wipes (since her new eye makeup was hard to remove) along with one of her best friends, Zoey smirked to herself, a medium sized bottle of whiskey. On second thought Zoey remembered that she'd probably stay more than one night so she also packed a razor and some lotion, uncomfortable using Clarice's.

When Zoey was all packed she looked at the clock excitedly, ready to go.

7:19.

Great.

Sighing in defeat Zoey looked around her room for something to occupy herself. Once again, her movie collection caught Zoey's eye. Only instead of her recent favorites, Rocky Horror and Rent, Newsies caught her eye. Not that she didn't like the movie, she just hadn't noticed it in a while. She had loved the songs and the simple yet moving plot, but hadn't payed much attention to it since when the Broadway version came out and she deemed herself the only one worthy enough to compare the two. Seeing as she lived in New York and money was never an issue she was able to see it as soon as it came out. Most of her 'friends' at school only knew how to spout nonsensical gossip. Despite their apparent wealth and general availability many had not even seen a Broadway play. Zoey was sad to know that the future of some of New York's finest tycoons lay in her peers' hands.

Zoey popped the disk into her DVD player and sat cross legged on her bed with a blanket and her overnight bag. She watched with rapt attention as the narration began...


	2. Not in Kansas

**Hey there! So, this is definitely not my best work and I don't have a Beta, so all mistakes are mine and I apologize. It might take me a while in between chapters because I'm trying really hard to make the info. I use more or less accurate with the time frame, like with streets, and city placement, what people did and did not wear, and I'm still narrowing it down a bit to what I will and will not use.**

 **This chapter might get a little confusing, and if there's something that really bothers you about it or a mistake please let me know!**

When Zoey woke she was shivering, a dank, wet smell filled her nose and she couldn't see much. It seemed she was on top of some sort of box or crate, with a single newspaper covering her. The air was sort of misty and it was quiet, but the silence seemed very ominous to her.

Wrinkling her nose, Zoey threw the soggy paper off herself with mild distaste and swung her legs around on the crate. Pushing herself off the wooden box Zoey walked towards the mouth of the alleyway she seemed to be in. There was no sound of taxis, or the regular city life in general, leading her to believe she must be in some far off vicinity of New York. Maybe. Possibly.

Well where else could she be?!

She'd always somewhat been a capricious person, and certainly believed very strongly in carpe diem, but it wasn't very much like her to land herself in some random rank alley. Certainly not when she was with Clarice, who always made sure to keep an eye on her, with Zoey's reciprocating the favor.

Her overnight bag was gripped tightly in her hands, and she didn't even notice it until the metal chain of the handholds bit into her skin. Her purse was nowhere in sight, and neither was her phone. Maybe she'd been robbed? Or maybe she had gone to the party and been roofied? Oh god, had someone done something to her and then dropped her off in the middle of nowhere? She didn't feel sick. Did people normally feel sick if they've been roofied? Zoey was sure at least, no one had done… that to her. But then why was she abandoned here?

Zoey stopped walking and spun around again, hoping to see some sort of evidence of a prank. How had she gotten here? Clarice surely would have jumped out to scare her by now, wouldn't she have? Was she going to be killed?

Zoey shook her head to clear herself from all of her paranoid thoughts. There had to be a rational explanation, there always was. She continued down the alley way towards the faint glow of a street light. When Zoey reached the street corner she froze; it must be a dream. There were no cars, but that wasn't what truly worried her, what had her frozen in shock was the fact that a horse drawn buggy was making it's way towards her. She looked around desperately, waiting to see someone that would help explain exactly where she was. Zoey saw a group of what looked to be old men walking out of a building, dressed smartly in oldies coat and tie wear, complete with top hats.

Had she stumbled upon a reenactment troupe?

Staying in the shadows in case it was a restricted area, Zoey crept down the street, looking for some sign of where she was so she could call a taxi and get home. It soon seemed that she was better at getting further lost than she was at finding a landmark, and she began to lose hope. All she remembered was waiting for Clarice and wishing that she could help the people from back then with their poverty. The further she went the less sure Zoey was that this was some random group of Larpers and not the real deal. The detail was amazing, down to the spokes on a wheel of a horseless carriage. Maybe she was in some sort of Amish section of New York?

Zoey frowned at herself in disgust, she really was scraping the bottom of the barrel right now. She wished desperately that she had her phone so she could attempt to call Clarice- or even Zander. Zoey was grateful as she walked that her overnight bag wasn't heavy, it slung easily over her shoulder and didn't require much attention. One less thing to worry about.

"Young lady! It's not proper to be on your own at this time of night!" A group of men from a building that looked like some sort of tavern began shouting at her. Zoey glanced up, then quickly looked down again.

"Whatta ya wearin'? Youse some sorta street walker?" Their clothing wasn't as clean and formal as the old men she had seen before, but still, the time period was nowhere near twenty-first century's. Could it be...

"I could give you a good time.. but you'd have to pay me!" Zoey refused to look at them, and kept her head down walking in the opposite direction. Their voices began to come from closer.

"Hey princess! We're talkin' to ya!"

Zoey ran.

Zoey didn't know what had kicked in inside of her. She's never resorted to running from someone on the street before. And she'd had her fair share of catcalls and hollers. Zoey's even gone as far as to scold someone who had said some less than polite things to her and Clarice one night. Why was she all of a sudden running as if her life depended on it?

During this thought a horse came around the corner, carriage in tow, looking as if it had every right in the world to be there. On the street. In the middle of the night. The driver looked up and caught sight of her on the side of the street.

"Hey you-!" He pointed at her but before he could finish his sentence she was off. The last thing she needed was to be caught by some stranger in this freak show. As she sprinted down the street Zoey caught her foot on step of a nearby house. She met the ground quickly with a thump and gasped in pain as her knee met the pavement. Or was it cobblestone?

A ripped and soggy newspaper lay directly in front of her bent body, and Zoey began to reach for it when she heard men's voices again.

"-thinks she went tha' way."

"She was one pretty piece of meat."

Wincing in pain Zoey leapt up again, running and watching out for the things around her as she took turn after turn, far past caring where she was headed. After a minute of twists and turns a flying newspaper smacked her in the face. Zoey growled in frustration and made to rip the paper to shreds when she saw the headline that read, 'Newsies Victorious'. Her hands shook as she lifted the paper closer to her face, in order to see the small print there. She dropped the paper and clapped her hands to her mouth in shock. Slowly, she couched down and tried to breathe. In and out, slowly, then twice more, like her old therapist had taught her.

A tear fell unbidden and Zoey blinked any others away. She knew it couldn't be a dream, the throbbing in her knee was too real, the moistness of the air and the rough feel of the ground below her. She was back in time. As in, time travel. Like, not the TARDIS kind. Or whatever it was that Dorothy and Toto went through.

Holding onto what she assumed was a street sign, but not bothered enough to look up and actually check, Zoey stood dark houses surrounding her, making her seem small with their tallness. The night was quiet.

She was scared.

And now here she stood, on a cold and dirty street in the middle of the night with no idea where she was. Life really had a nasty way of giving her what she asked for. Zoey heard a thunk, along with the sound of footsteps, accompanied by another thunk. She looked in the direction the noise came from. And then she saw a flash of gold in the darkness.

A lightly whistled tune reached her ears before she saw the owner, who was shrouded in the darkness of the street lamp's shadow. Another step and whack sounded as the figure moved into the light.

"Well well, what have we here?" a smug voice spoke in an accent that was distinctly New York-en. Frightened beyond belief now, and wishing she had a cup of coffee, Zoey took a infirm step backwards. The smirk on the face of who had spoken matched the cocky voice perfectly. Dishwater blond hair stuck out of a brown cap, matching a brown vest with a light colored t-shirt under it, as if the owner could care less about the cold. Zoey took a deep breath and returned her gaze to the face of the stranger, the let it all out in one short gasp.

If she wasn't mistaken, (Or completely bonkers) she'd have to say Spot Conlon stood in front of her. "Fucking hell," she said, then crumpled to the side in a faint, very uncharacteristically.

 **So... that was eventful. Please review and favorite etc. etc. And let me know what you think!**


	3. Caramel Cooler

**Kay, so I think this one is a little longer than my first two, which is what I was aiming for. And by the way, my name is actually Brooklyn. No joke. So you can imagine all the fun I had when I watched Newsies for the first time... And I'm craving coffee more than usual lately. Not that I can afford Caribou, but I kinda want to make myself a pot even though it's 12:58 am. Review!**

Sun was shining in her eyes when Zoey woke. Her whole body felt warm and cozy, wrapped up in a blanket. Except the blanket was kind of itchy. And her bed wasn't in reach of the sun.

Zoey shot up and looked around the room she was in. Bunks lined either side of the walls and a few were haphazardly placed in the middle of room as well. The beds were all unmade, and most looked recently used by someone. Could she be-

A sharp rap against wood pulled her out of her thoughts, and Zoey twisted around to see her captor, and met sparkling blue eyes. At night and in her delicate state it could have all been a dream, but there was no mistake, Spot Conlon stood in front of her, cane in one hand, and a few loose newspapers in the other, with an amused look on his face.

"So the sleepin' beauty awakens," he intoned, gradually coming nearer. "Youse had a pretty big bump on ya head, ya know."

Zoey unconsciously felt at the base of her skull, and noticed the dull pain that resounded through her when she touched it lightly. Her knee, too, stung when she bent her leg. These wounds were real, this pain wasn't fabricated, she- she was in eighteen ninety-nine.

"How am I here?" she whispered to herself, forgetting Spot for a moment, before he coughed slightly in annoyance at her apparent lack of interest in him for the moment. His ploy worked, for now all she could think about was that she was in a movie. Which should be impossible.

"You're here 'cause I brought ya here, obviously." He misinterpreted her words. And him sounding like one of the Godfather's cronies was beginning to grate on her nerves.

"Anyways," he continued without noticing her mood, "Ya shouldn't be walkin' round these here streets without some decent clothes on." He paused and looked her up and down, even though she still sat on the bed. "Weird clothes…" he muttered to himself. "One of the boys' sisters had some extras though, so feel free to use 'em." Spot tossed some clothes on to the mattress, and Zoey tried not to show her distaste. Of course she had landed in a time where it was accepted the women wore dressed and not pants. She'd rather stay in her leggings… Couldn't she have ended up in the eighties or something?

"You're not real." Zoey shook her head. "This can't possibly be happening."

"Well I know it aint exactly clean in here, but it's betta than the street." Spot rolled his eyes as if to say, 'stupid girl'. Or in his case Zoey reasoned, it would be more like, 'stupid _goil._ ' He spoke again, "Don't worry, I can send one of me boys to bring ya back whereva ya come from."

A moment of silence ensued, and Zoey didn't know how to respond. If she was here with Spot Conlon that must mean she was in Brooklyn, which was only an hour and a half from her home in Manhattan, depending on how close they were to the bridge. The only problem was that her home didn't exist in this time. What could she tell Spot?

Spot stared at her and waited for her to speak, but when she said nothing he sighed, "Well then? Where're ya from?" His hands were expressive, and he gestured towards her grandly.

"I'm from Manhattan but-"

"Great, Ise got boys who know that place likes the back of their hands," he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to her feet. Something was thrust into her arms and it took a moment for Zoey to recognize it as her overnight bag. She peeked inside quickly to see if anything was missing. There didn't seem to be any theft, but everything was obviously looked through, her makeup bag was opened and her clothes unfolded.

"You can change in there." Spot pointed to what Zoey assumed to be a bathroom. "When you're done ya can come downstairs and meet up with Long-legs. He'll have the pleasure of escortin' youse to 'Hattan."

"I-I don't have anywhere to go in Manhattan," she stuttered. That was the truth at least. Her home was no longer in Manhattan, but she doubted her real explanation would fly with Spot. "I-I ran away."

"Why?" Spot bent his head curiously towards Zoey. His eyes were slightly squinted, as if there were a zit on her face.

Zoey squirmed under his gaze uncomfortably, but didn't answer; she hoped Spot would take her silence as a sign that whatever the reason was, it would be too hard for her to talk about. She was right, because after a moment Spot scoffed and pulled back. Crossing his arms and leaning on his cane, Spot shrugged. "Well you can't stay here, I'll have to pay a visit to Manhattan with you and see if anya-dem peewee newsies got a place for ya to stay."

Zoey nodded but didn't respond. Careful of her hurt knee she made her way into the washroom with the raggedy and overly complicated dress in hand. Zoey supposed that she would need to blend in for a while if she didn't know how to get back yet. There weren't any sort of knickers that she could identify, so she opted to keep her leggings on underneath the light blue dress. The lacings weren't as difficult as they seemed, and she was able to do them up without much difficulty.

Looking the mirror Zoey gasped at her appearance. Her eyes were rimmed with her smudged eye-liner, making her look similar to a raccoon. Her face was pale and haggard looking, causing her to wince, and she didn't even want to look at her hair. She wasn't normally overly excited about her own reflection, but this was certainly the worst she's looked in a while.

There were only combs lying around, and though they wouldn't do much with her hair Zoey tried her best to tame it into a braid of some sort. Wiping most of the remnants of her makeup off she sparingly redid it, opting out of any eye makeup though, besides a touch of mascara. Thanking the lord she had deodorant for herself. Just because she had to look like a girl from the 1890s didn't mean she was required to smell like one.

Spot was waiting downstairs for her when she finished in the washroom, along with a very tall boy who she assumed was 'Long legs'. Spot rose an eyebrow when she appeared, as if her attire surprised him in some way. He whistled while turning away and leading them out the front door. Long legs didn't introduce himself, and Zoey realized that Spot had never even told her his name yet. It was good that she didn't slip up and look like a stalker by knowing who he was when he hadn't granted her that information.

"Hey," she spoke up finally. "Who are you anyways?" Both boys turned around and Spot looked a little shocked to be honest.

Long legs' mouth gaped open and he pointed weakly towards Spot. "Youse tellin' me youse don't know who Spot _Conlon_ is?"

Was it a bad thing to pretend she didn't? She had assumed knowing who he was right off the bat would have been strange. "Um," she said uncomfortably. "I mean, I've heard of him."

"Well forget about hearin' me." Spot narrowed his eyes. "Now you've _seen_ me." He chuckled to himself, as if he thought she should be impressed by him or something. She supposed she should look more in awe, but it was difficult considering Zoey's never been afraid of someone so close to her own age. She didn't quite have the energy to pretend she was in the presence of some sort of idol, though.

It had been approximately twenty-two hours since she had had any coffee, which essentially was her life force. She spirit animal. Coffee was the Han Solo to her Leia, the Sun to her Shine, the nirvana to her Buddha, the- the... _Michael Vaughn_ to her Sydney Bristow. Unfortunately she was pretty sure there were no Caribou Coffees hanging around.

"Spot…" she heard Long Legs whisper to the newsboys' leader. "She looks real angry…"

Zoey looked down and avoided Spot's curious glance backwards to her. "Everythin' alright there, Shorty?"

Zoey looked up sharply. "I'm not short." She was five six, a perfectly average height.

Spot snickered, and held up his hands. "Whateva you say, doll face."

Zoey decided not to pursue the argument. She was smart enough to know that whatever his pretenses, Spot indeed had a reputation, he was dangerous. It wouldn't be in her favor to instigate something with him, jokingly or otherwise. She would decide what to do when they got to Manhattan.

The walk was long, Zoey hadn't realized how much of a luxury modern transportation was. Her ankles were beginning to be sore, and she swore that she was getting the shakes from coffee deprivation. Zoey could barely think enough to her place her feet in front of one another, and barely dodged other pedestrians. Eventually though, they made it to where Spot was leading them.

A small, unimpressive building stood before them, and Spot walked in as if he owned the place. His swagger was confident, and a lazy smile graced his lips as he crossed the threshold. Long legs held the door open and gestured for her to go first. Following close behind Spot, Zoey saw several boys lying on bare mattresses and old sofas, greeting Spot loudly, but not moving. Someone from the corner called to him, "He's upstairs, Spot. It was a fast sellin' day." Spot nodded to the boy in response and gestured with his head to Zoey and Long legs, walking up the narrow staircase.

The three of them entered a room much like the one Zoey had woken up in, filled to the brim with bunk beds and various belongings of the boys who occupied them. Someone sat with their back to them, leaning against the post of a bunk bed, scribbling into a journal of some sort. It was a boy with long brown hair, wearing a light gray shirt and vest.

"Jacky-boy! Long time no see." Spot greeted with a smile on his face. Zoey froze.

No way.

'Jacky-boy' turned around with an amused grin on his face, rolling his eyes at Spot. "Not nearly long enough, Spot," he said.

"No way…" Zoey whispered to herself, but none of the boy's took notice. They spit and shook hands, Long legs shaking Jack's hand as well, though not speaking.

It was Christian Bale.

It was seventeen year old Christian Bale right in front of her. Zoey praised herself for not fainting this time round. She should have been expecting this, as if Spot was the only character in whatever this world was. It suddenly seemed much more crazy though with mini Batman standing in front of her.

She really wanted that coffee now...


	4. Why so serious?

**Hey everyone! So this chapter is WAY longer than I initially thought it would be because my original purpose was just to establish a relationship between Zoey and the other newsies. Things just… Got out of hand. I only wanted to warn you that parts of the next chapter could be considered violent/intense and there is some harsh language. Please let me know what you think! I'm still not used to spelling accents out phonetically**!

"You gotta problem swee' heart?" he asked, winking, causing her to blush and look away. He turned to Spot. "Who's the looker, Conlon?"

"She turned up downtown Brooklyn last night, found her while I was out on a walk after takin care of some business." Zoey noticed the way Spot's eyes shifted downwards during the last half of his sentence.

"I was wonderin' if ya had any place she could stay for awhile, or maybe one of ya boys," he said.

"I dunno, Spot. Most the boys here don't even got their own home, forget about sharin' with another person." Jack didn't look ready to just send them away though, he spoke before Spot had time to reply. "Maybe she can just stay here, ya think? Freddy, Heels and Heels' kid brother just moved out, so there's only 'bout twenty of us right now."

Spot seemed to think for a moment and didn't look at her. She didn't know what to think about this turn of events, living with twenty boys was never something she ever thought she'd had to consider. Before she had a chance to say anything though, boys entered the upstairs room. Loud and laughing, arms around shoulders, genuine newsies. Just as she'd read about, and several she even remembered from the movie.

This wasn't like meeting movie stars, and she'd met a few; she was meeting actual characters, with the looks, education, feelings and personality of the same people she'd seen on tv. It should be impossible, what kind of alternate universe did this have to be?

"Well, I'd like to consider your offer," Spot said in a professional voice." How about you let me think 'bout it over a game of poker, eh Race track?" He elbowed a boy to his left who looked Italian, much to the boy's charin.

"Aw come off it Conlon! Youse already stole a fortune from me!" Race moaned, rubbing his side.

"Youse saying ya scared, Race?" A tan boy she knew to be Mush shoved the Italian's shoulder playfully.

"I aint never said Ise is scared!" Race yelled, throwing his hand to the side. "Fine we'se can play a round or two."

"Ay," said a tall boy to her right, "who's dis?"

"Yeah, she's pretty…" She heard a boy with a patch on his eye whisper to another.

Jack straightened, an obvious leader and pointed in her direction. "This is… uh," he paused awkwardly. "Actually I don't know. Spot?"

Spot looked smug for a moment, and Zoey saw that look fall quickly when he realized that he, himself didn't know what her name was either. So finally he looked to her and shrugged in a small gesture that suggested it was time to introduce herself.

"I'm Zoey," she said, and tried to avoid any eye contact with the boys.

"Right she's Zoey, and she needs a place to stay. Any of youse got a place?" She was surprised how authoritative Spot sounded with newsies that weren't even his own.

The group of boys shuffled and mumbled, but didn't really give an answer. She sighed internally, how was she supposed to get home? It would probably become obvious that she wasn't normal to them eventually, she was surprised Spot hadn't asked her more about her clothes and the contents of her bag.

"It's like I said, Spot. We don't have no special place, except fer here. Does she got any family?" Jack's eyes cut to her suddenly. "Youse a runaway?" he asked her curiously, with his hands in his pockets.

Was she? She didn't have a better cover story. When Spot began staring at her as well she noticed that her pause had been entirely too long.

"Y-yeah," she said, hoping that her reluctance to share played off as her being scared to be caught.

"Well are gonna play here, or what?" Race said from across the room while shuffling a deck of cards. Loud agreement from the boys ensued as all made their way to the table in the corner, some to play, and some to watch.

She sat on the corner of a bunk, watching the game with mild interest but mostly hoping her head would stop pounding. She'd kill for an aspirin. Of all the things she didn't pack in her bag… That and a coffee maker.

After coming to the realization that her wide range of knowledge did not include the rules of Poker, Zoey's mind drifted off. She didn't find it hard to think even with the loud boys in the room. There had to be a way back to where she came from.

She knew from the wide range of movies she'd seen that there was always a way out. And it usually had something to do with the way she'd got there. All she remembered was falling asleep, though.

Her thoughts were interrupted when someone sat next to her. It was the tall boy who had spoken before. He looked kind, with a handsome face and brown hair, a small bottle in his hand.

"Ya head looks pretty busy, huh?" He offered her the bottle, and after a second she accepted.

"Yeah… I guess you could say that," she answered before lifting the container to her lips. The liquid burned down her throat, but not quite painfully. Whiskey. She handed it back to him and he took a small sip, looking at her.

"Where ya from?" He asked, scooting closer to her so they could have a proper conversation amongst the noise. She took the bottle from him once more and drank.

"Around, I suppose."

He smiled. "What kinda answer is that?" He asked playfully.

"The kind of answer you're getting," she said, poking him in the chest. "Nosy."

He held up his hands in surrender and laughed. "A'right, a'right. Sorry ta offend yah, miss."

She laughed and handed the bottle back to him, then pulled her legs up into the bed so her knees were against her chest.

"Hey there Zoey!" A short boy with dark skin who looked a few years younger than her plopped down on the mattress on the other side of her, bouncing the bed. "Don't listen ta Skittery ova here. He's always popular with da ladies." He nudged her arm. "If ya hang out with me you'll have way more fun. I'm Boots."

Zoey smiled at Boots, then adopted a serious face and rose an eyebrow at Skittery. "Popular with the ladies, huh?"

Skittery blushed and looked down sheepishly. "Youse could say that, or at least some people might."

She snatched the whiskey from him and took a sip, smiling slyly. She leant against the wall whilst throwing her legs over Skittery's lap in a way she might have done with Zander. She didn't know how most girls acted during this time period, but both Boots and Skittery's faces in reaction were to die for.

"Dammit!" A loud yell from Race took their attention. "Youse were cheatin, don' even try ta deny it!" Race was standing up at the table pointing right in Spot's smug face.

"I don't know what you're talkin about Race track. I won fair and square. You could win it back from me though. How about another round?" Spot was obviously trying not to smile widely to Race's response.

"If youse got anythin up ya sleeve I swear I'll soak ya Conlon!" Race said angrily, but still sat down and passed the cards to Jack to shuffled. "You won't be so lucky dis time," he said more calmly. "Prepare ta be beaten."

"I'm shakin' in my suspendas," Spot said sarcastically. Zoey tried not to laugh, but Spot suddenly seemed so funny to her, and suddenly she couldn't hold it in anymore. Some of the boys smiled at her, including Spot who seemed interested to know that she could laugh, considering her so far limited conversation with him.

Soon more people began talking to her, and she tried her best to be friendly, the whiskey helping her along just a bit. She talked to Skittery the most though, and soon, if she squinted her eyes and forgot about their clothing it was as if she were at a party back home. Minus Clarice of course, who she was beginning to miss.

She wondered if Clarice even knew Zoey was gone? What if she called the cops or something? Or her parents? She'd be on a file, somewhere, falling behind in school. What if she-

A hand shook her shoulder suddenly and she looked up to see Jack. She had to crane her head all the way to look at him, and she squinted against the ceiling light. He sat down and stared at her for a moment, causing her to laugh awkwardly to get rid of the quietness. He smiled kindly and leant forward a little, whispering in her ear. "Don't overthink anythin'," he said. "Whateva's botherin you can wait, right?" He pulled back and gave her a wink. "Just have some fun."

She hadn't even known Jack left the poker game that was still ongoing. Jack walked away and began a conversation with Mush and Crutchy. One advantage to watching Newsies was the pre-knowlege of some of the boys' names. She was leaning against someone, and they absently twirled her hair that had come out of it's braid.

Eventually she turned her head and saw Skittery smiling at her. Her cheeks seemed to tug up of their own accord, whether it be from her current contentedness or from the good sized amount of whiskey she had shared with him. Before she knew it, Skittery pressed his mouth against hers, shocking her. She didn't really know what to do, but before she could react his lips were wrenched away from hers.

A shout was all she heard, followed by a few gasps and mutters, along with a pained groan. Zoey opened her previously closed eyes, and saw Skittery now on the floor beside the bunk, and Spot's back directly in front of her, his fists clenched.

"The hell you think you're doin, Spot?" She heard Jack yell, but Spot didn't move. Jack finally made his way through the crowd of boys and shoved Spot lightly back by the shoulder. Spot didn't answer, but soon changed his stoic face into one of carefreeness.

"His face was botherin' me," he said simply. A few newsies gave him a strange look but didn't comment on his excuse. Spot Conlon seemed to be the type of person who didn't need a legitimate reason for doing what he wanted. A few boys silently helped up Skittery and moved him behind the crowd, sensing that something may be brewing.

"We're all tired, so how bout youse go ta bed?" Jack addressed his boys and they all reluctantly dispersed to their designated bunks, some in different adjoining rooms. Jack and Spot shared a serious look, but Spot didn't drop the arrogant look in his eyes. Jack sighed and brought a hand through his hair, jerking his head in the direction of the stairs.

Zoey hadn't received any direction from either of them so she sat there, and then slowly stood, concentrating on each movement. Her head seemed to travel a few seconds slower than the rest of her body, and as she stopped her movements it snapped back to catch up with her. The lights were still on, but that didn't bother the boys as they began to snore immediately.

Her steps were careful and calculated, so she made it to the door with minimum stumbling. Her happy buzz was slowly fading into a weird in between place that had always made her uncomfortable, so when she spotted a small flask on a side table, she reached for it. She lifted it to her mouth without smelling it and almost choked at the taste.

Jesus, she thought, this stuff was strong enough it could be lit on fire easily. Still though, she took another swig of the stuff even as her nose scrunched in distaste. She couldn't hear what Jack and Spot were talking about downstairs but she figured Spot would soon leave. Stupid Spot… Why did he have to interrupt Skittery? Zoey hadn't kissed many boys but maybe she would have liked it. Skittery was nice, it was too bad he wasn't even from her century.

Zoey went to take another gulp of the liquor but she found she had drank it all. Shrugging, she set the metal flask down and with a deep breath she opened the door and walked downstairs.

It had only been five or so minutes but it looked like everything between the two newsie leaders had been resolved. Spot's eyes met her's first and she tried to match the serious look on his face, holding it for all of three seconds before breaking down and laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong Spot?" She laughed and looked up at Jack as well from the floor -how had she gotten on the floor again?- "Why so serious?" Jack rose an eyebrow and looked at Spot in a 'sure she didn't hit her head?" way.

Didn't they get it, she was quoting the Joker for christ's sake! She resolved to try again. "Hey Spot!" She said happily. "See. Spot. Run. Get it?" They both looked at her blankly. She knew it was useless to quote modern culture to them, but it was so much fun! They seemed to come to some sort of unseen conclusion as they looked at her.

Spot came over and pulled her arm around his shoulders and put his around her waist. "Come on, Crazy," he said. "I gotta get up in the mornin'." She nodded understandingly to him.

"Oh I know," she said. "You newsies work so hard, and only average like, fifty cents a day! Then here I am, spending probably-"

"Could ya stop shouting in me ear, Crazy?" He muttered, pushing her head away from his own. He started walking them towards the opening to the lodge.

"See ya latah Spot… Good luck." Jack said in farewell. Zoey spun around, a wide smile on her face, barely noticing her slow reflexes.

"Bye Jack!" She smiled. "It was so nice to meet you, but I've got to go return some video tapes!" Spot jerked her forward harder this time as Jack smiled and waved at her a little uncomfortably.

"Bye Zoey."

"Na na na na na na na Batm-!"

"Let's go." Spot hauled her through the door impatiently, and down the steps, kicking the door shut with his foot on the way.

She and Spot stumbled down the street, until she convinced him she could walk. In fact she skipped. At least that's what she was trying to do, until she tripped and fell, keeping herself from falling too hard by sticking out her hand. Her hand was scraped and her wrist hurt immensely.

"Are you good for anything besides getting in trouble?" Spot grumbled in exasperation, helping her stand.

Zoey pouted. "This is the first time since I've been around you that anything bad has happened."

"What do you call fainting in the middle of the street last night? Or making Skittery do stupid shit tonight?" he retorted, obviously grumpy. "Seems ta me that you're nothing but trouble."

"Well," she said, at a loss for words. "Shut up."

Spot glared and stepped forward, the streetlight making his eyes flash. "Don't eva," he started while grabbing her chin, "tell me what ta do." His hand was forcing her to meet his eyes and he glared into her soul.

Zoey stared back at him and suddenly saw a whole new side of the boy she'd never seen before. This boy was dangerous, and not in a comical way like she'd always thought during Newsies, but well and truly a threat. Carefully she nodded, and his fingers released her face.

They continued to walk down the bridge.

Minutes later, Zoey still being inebriated, tried her turn at conversation again.

"Have you always had a temper?" she asked.

"You bet," he said. "It's what keeps me on top." He swung his cane from his hip and tapped it absently against the railing.

Suddenly someone darted out from the shadows and rushed towards them. Zoey couldn't see their faces and only glimpsed their clothes as they ran past a street light. Spot was instantly on guard, and pushed her farther behind him.

A large hand wrapped around Zoey's wrist and yanked her off balance. She screamed and tried to wrench herself out of the brute's grasp, but he held on to her tightly. She heard grunts as Spot and the figure engaged, and a loud whack, resulting in what sounded like a very painful fall to the ground.

The hand holding Zoey jerked her, causing her to nearly fall, but she quickly pulled back her right leg and delivered a swift kick to his shin, causing him to let out a croak in pain. His grip was loosened but not enough that she could free herself.

She could tell that Spot was fighting still, whether it was the same person or another one that had arrived she didn't know yet. She struggled to think of any maneuvers she might know from the few self defense classes she had taken but she tripped and was mercilessly yanked up again, her shoulder responding painfully.

She heard a strange five note whistling sound from behind her as she used her other hand and grabbed hold of his arm that kept her own captive. She twisted her body and pivoted on her left foot, bringing her right foot up and straight out, smashing into the large person's body. He was still mostly upright though, and looked as if he was about to attack her again when she heard another whistle, and then there were three more boys, except instead of attacking her and Spot like she expected, they began to fight her attacker.

She was breathing hard and tears had escaped her eyes unbidden. Someone began pulling her up from under her arms and she thrashed around, yelling out. She flung her arm out to hit her next attacker and it was only when she heard the person swear loudlythat she realized it was only Spot.

"Come on," he said, rubbing his jaw bone with one hand and pulling her up with the other. He let go of her arm and sauntered up to who had been Zoey's assailant. The young man had what looked like a broken nose and a busted lip. Newsie boys held on to him, forcing him down on his knees in front of Spot. Zoey recognized one of them as Long legs.

"Well well," Spot said, with a bright smile on his face that did nothing to disguise the obvious hatred in his eyes. "Looks like the Harlem boys is asking me for a fight." Zoey didn't even see the gold flash of Spot's came as it struck the boy with a sickening crack. Zoey flinched at the violence and took a few steps back.

Spot knelt down on one knee. "To what," he started, fixing his cap, "do I owe the pleasure?"

The boy hung his bloody face, panting heavily, then spat in Spot's direction. One of the newsies swung a punch into his face easily in retaliation. Spot didn't say anything, he didn't even move. He must have been confident that the boy would answer him eventually.

Though instead of remaining to hear the rogue newsie break, Spot began walking in the direction of Brooklyn again. Zoey was speechless, the newsies really seemed more like a gang than a group of friends.

"C'mon Crazy," Spot tossed over his shoulder at her. Slowly, with her eyes still on the newsie who was held captive, Zoey walked towards Spot. He hadn't stopped and waited for her, but he did slow down enough so she could catch up.

"How're you gonna find out why they came?" she asked him once they had gotten a ways away.

Spot answered, "My boys are taking care of it." His voice was completely level, but the way his eyes were narrowed and his jaw was set told Zoey more than she needed to know.

She didn't speak again until they got back to the lodging house.


	5. Long live the Beatles

**Hey All! So this chapter gets a bit dark and to be honest it was a little hard to write so please be kind!**

 **I'd like to thank** js158900 **for their faithful reviews! They've been extremely helpful and motivating! I hope you enjoy this chapter and please comment to let me know how you like it!**

Zoey was in the art room at her school, drinking coffee. It was strange because no snacks or beverages were allowed in the art room. She sat at one of the large wooden tables, their surface filled with holes and divots, ingrained in them from years of use. Large posters with intricate paintings that she couldn't focus on filled the room.

Several people from her prep school filled the other tables, but she sat alone. A sketch pad was before her and soon enough she started drawing, ignoring the chatter around her. Her teacher was playing some Beatles' song, but she wasn't sure which one it was.

"Hey Zoey," someone from behind her spoke. "Are you too good to hang out with us or something?"

Zoey turned around. "No I- I was just doodling."

"Well let's see it then." Before she knew it the person, who was a girl, grabbed the sketch pad and seemed to inspect it closely.

The pad was tossed back to her on the table. "He looks really angry," the girl said.

"Who?" Zoey asked.

"The guy in your drawing. He is kind of cute though."

Zoey flipped around the overturned sketch pad in curiosity. It was true, it was a picture of a boy. He looked vaguely familiar but Zoey's memory seemed to fail her. She carefully traced the boy's jaw line which was, true to the other girl's word, tensed in anger. She had drawn his eyes almost without flaw, and if there had been color she was sure they would burn brighter than any eyes she had ever seen.

As beautiful as he was he didn't look like anyone she'd ever want to know. He looked arrogant, and even in his anger the corner of his mouth turned up in an infuriating smirk. He looked like someone with a quick temper.

It's what keeps me on top.

Spot. The name jumped to the front of her brain like a bullet and in seconds everything came back to her. The Beatles had changed to something loud and more edgy, something she distantly recognized as Nirvana.

When she stood up and spun around, looking for who had changed the music her father stood before her. Zoey froze, her eyes widening in fright.

"You're such a disappointment, Zoey." He stalked towards her, a disgusted look in his face.

"D-dad…"

"Everything I fucking do for you, and this is how you repay me?" His eyes bite into her soul, making her flinch. "You shouldn't have even been born, did you know that? But your mother insisted, said that it didn't matter you were a girl. That girls could make good successors too."

Her father kicked over a stool near her. "What a load of shit!" He shouted. "I should have thrown you away when I had the chance!"

"Dad, don't say that!" Zoey cried, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Maybe I will get rid of you now. It's not too late."

Zoey tried to move, but her legs weren't working, she was frozen. Her sobs were silent, even to her own ears. Her father towered above her, and all she could do was try to shrink away. He grabbed her roughly and soon his hands were wrapped around her neck.

She could feel her life draining away, her remaining vision clouded from tears. Why couldn't she defend herself? Zoey could hear her mother's voice from nearby, egging her father on. She tried to scream and suddenly she was able to kick out. The focus of her vision sharpened, her father and mother disappeared in a flash.

The art room and its garish posters melted away until Zoey stood alone on an abandoned street, lit by a lone streetlamp. No lights shone in the numerous windows of the buildings around her and everything was quiet. She didn't know how to get home, except she didn't have a home. No one wanted her there, she wasn't supposed to have been born. Even so, Zoey couldn't help but be grateful she was no longer anywhere near her father.

She couldn't see anything in the dark streets. It felt like time was stretched out, she stood staring out at the same spot, where light met the dark, waiting for nothing to happen.

Step. Step. Step.

Slowly a figure emerged from the foggy darkness.

Step. Step.

Zoey saw the golden metallic glint reflect off of the dim light.

Step.

Spot's face appeared, no longer shrouded in darkness, and there was his eternal, insufferable smirk, placed on his face as if it had been there all his life.

"Hey Crazy," he said with a smile. "Why do you look so scared?"

When Zoey woke she couldn't breathe properly. Her chest was tight and her heart was beating erratically. She couldn't move, and her throat was painfully dry. She managed a raspy croak and all of a sudden she was in control again.

Zoey curled into a ball and began to rock herself. She knew even without looking around that she wasn't home. It was a dream. She was in the lodging house, in a mostly abandoned bunk room, and tears were streaming down her face as she struggled to breathe. She couldn't mask her cries for long, and despite her efforts one of the boys she shared the room with woke up.

He looked somewhere near eleven, and was rail thin. He didn't say anything to her, he must've been able to tell what sort of state she was in without asking. Zoey only half paid attention to him as he got out of bed and walked out the door into the hallway.

 _All you need is love. Do do do do do…_

She was shaking uncontrollably. No nightmare had ever affected her this way before, her body felt as if everything had been real. Her arm ached right in the area her father had initially grabbed her in her dream. She held a hand over her mouth to keep any noises she let out muffled, and tried to slowly breath through her nose.

She didn't know how many minutes later it was, but somehow Spot was sitting next to her, a hand on her shoulder. He looked just as he had in her dream, both her sketch and in the street. Except his eyes held no amusement, nor anger. His eyes seemed softer than Zoey had ever been which she credited towards his sleepiness.

"What's amatta?" he asked her somewhat groggily, his husky voice laced more with sleepiness than with concern.

She shook her head quickly, her chest tightening at even the thought of reliving her dream. She'd be a complete mess again in an instant. Her whole body was shivering and she cursed herself for showing so much weakness in front of this person.

"C'mon, somethin's up. It can't be that bad." He tried to coax a story out of her. Zoey looked up, meeting his gaze, and his eyes widened. She knew he must've seen- seen it in her eyes that she wasn't mildly scared by some monster in her dreams. She had never experienced a dream like this before. She didn't know why it had shocked her so much.

She shook her head again and buried it in her arms, resting atop her knees. Spot didn't say anything to her, and she thought that he was resolved to leave when she felt him lift off the mattress, but then his arms were around her. One arm went underneath her knees and the other cradled her middle. When he began lifting her she reflexively wrapped her arms around his neck to prevent herself from falling.

"Y-you can't carry me," she managed to say without her voice failing her.

Spot gave her an incredulous look. "Why not?"

She froze for a moment, where would he possibly carry her off to? "I'm too heavy."

Spot let out a dark chuckle. "Who do you think dragged youse all the way back when ya decided ta take a headfirst dive into the concrete last night?"

 _...love, love is all you need…_

Zoey shivered and unconsciously clung tighter to Spot, the once cheerful lyrics striking fear into her chest. Spot ignored whatever spasm was going through her and resolutely carried her through the doorway and down the small hallway. He nudged a door to their right open with his foot and it revealed a closet small room, with a dresser, desk, and bed all wedged in together.

Spot set her down on the bed with little care and plopped himself into a rather cushy-but small arm chair in the corner. He snatched a thin looking blanket from the floor.

"W-what are you doing?" she asked. Why couldn't her tongue work correctly?

He cast an annoyed look her way. "What's it look like?"

So he was giving her his bed to sleep in. For some reason, but why would he do that?

"Why?" She asked, her voice sounding much steadier than it had been.

Spot tried to situate himself on the chair. "'Cause my boys need ta work tomorrow, and that means they need ta sleep."

Ah, so they couldn't afford to have her and her crazy dreams disturbing people.

"But…" She faltered slightly when he sent her another annoyed glance. "But, what about you?"

"I'm their leader," he said whilst punching the head rest of his chair into submission. "I can survive on less than them."

"Oh," she replied quietly, for lack of a better response.

"Yeah."

Zoey placed her hands upon the mattress, it was clad in worn but clean sheets and blanket. It was nothing like her bed at home, this one felt more personal, like it was actually appreciated. The quilt was dark blue and a faded red, she wondered where Spot had gotten it.

"Ya gonna stare at it or sleep in it?"

She carefully pulled herself under the covers, and they were surprisingly soft. "You know, I could sleep in the chair if you want. I'd fit better."

Spot flung the blanket over his body and turned his back to her. "Shuddup," was all he said in reply. A few minutes later it seemed to Zoey that he had fallen asleep.

And just like that she felt alone again, how had the darkness come so quickly? Could she fall asleep after a terror like that? Zoey squeezed her eyes tight and tried to count backwards from fifty, the way her old nanny had taught her.

49, 48, 47.

She could still picture the art room perfectly.

43, 42, 41.

The grip on her neck had felt so real.

She couldn't breathe.

36, 35, 34.

 _All you need is love..._

29, 28, 27.

Sto-

A hand shook her shoulder from behind. Immediately she was snapped out of her vile thoughts.

"Move over." It was Spot. She didn't turn around for fear that he would see her tears that she knew were falling from her face. She scooted forward, closer to the wall that the bed fell alongside.

Spot slid in next to her, but didn't invade her personal space much. He hadn't known she was freaking out, had he? She didn't want him to think she really was crazy.

"I thought you could survive on less…" Zoey's teasing voice sounded forced even to herself so she drifted off near the end of her almost question.

"Doesn't mean I do it if I don't hafta," he replied.

Zoey nodded her head in response even though she wasn't looking at him. She decided to chance a glance to see what position he was sleeping in. Slowly she looked over her shoulder and was shocked to see his eyes still wide open, watching her carefully. She whipped back to face the wall but she knew it was too late; with the moonlight streaming through the window behind him he was sure to see the wetness of her face.

He didn't say anything, but his silence disturbed her more than the alternative, because she had had yet to experience it. They were both under the covers and Zoey suspected most girls in this time would be scandalized. Oh if they only knew what was in store. She shivered from the cool air of the room but didn't dare move to adjust the blanket.

Zoey figured the best thing to do was pretend to be sleeping. It had worked many a time for her with other guy friends so this time shouldn't be much different. She felt a hand touch the middle of her back but still she didn't move. It drifted over her shoulder and Zoey fought to stay frozen.

'Don't move,' she thought.

And then she felt a sudden warmness. Spot's hand was no longer against her flesh, he had pulled a blanket up to cover her shoulders fully. She let out a deep breath, and wondered why her heart was racing. She breathed in the smell of the blanket, and wondered if Spot smelt the same. When she peeked around her shoulder again his eyes were closed, some of his ashy hair falling in his eyes.

Zoey had an urge to reach out and brush them out of his face but she turned back around instead, and closed her eyes.

She was no longer cold, and she didn't dream.


	6. Felicia

HELLO PLANET EARTH!

Oh my goodness I cannot express in words how busy I've been. The infuriating part- I had three fourths of this done in a couple days but I could never find the time to write the next page or so! Sorry.

Thanks for some of the favorites and reviews- they make me so happy! I'm actually editing this about half an hour before my choir concert right now so... I went to an art contest and got an excellent (2nd best rating you can get) and the piece was actually Peter Pan inspired which explains some parts of this chapter. I was also feeling like a piece of internet trash which explains other parts of this chapter. I apologize. But let's be honest, we're all internet trash.

3 Enjoy!

When Zoey woke her face was warm, and her injuries from the past two nights didn't hurt very much at all. She guessed that the sunlight shining through the window next to her was to blame for interrupting her sleep. Zoey opened her eyes and squinted at the piercing light, fighting the strong urge to sneeze. Eventually her eyes adjusted to the bright light and she pushed herself up into a half sitting position.

Spot was nowhere to be seen, and Zoey was far past trying to fool herself into thinking this was all a dream. For now, this was her only reality. Seriously though, she thought to herself, it's time for coffee.

Zoey wandered out of Spot's room, peeking around the corners until she realized that no one was in the lodging house. Her bag was where she had left it in the smaller bunk room and she quickly slipped out of her fuzzy pajama pants and into the dress that had been borrowed to her yesterday. She figured it only made sense to blend in a little bit, even if she didn't plan on spending much time here.

Eventually she made her way to the small kitchen area, which was surprisingly stocked decently. When she snooped through the cupboards she found sugar and a few spices, along with jars of preserves, a hunk of bread, rice, flour and, much to her delight- coffee.

It wasn't Starbucks, but she mixed up her coffee pretty well if she did say so herself. All she would need is a little bit of creamer, but sugar would have to do for now.

When her soul was all warmed up she decided to take a peek outside and see if any of the boys were lurking around the area. It was still morning- about ten o'clock if she had to guess, and the air held a chill. The boys must still be selling papes, otherwise she heard from conversations last night that the Brooklyn newsies often hung out by the docks. People walked past and didn't give her a second glance, as if she belonged here.

She was reminded abruptly that she didn't.

A cold damp hand grabbed her arm roughly, pulling Zoey into the alley. In a corner of her mind she was astonished on how just a couple of walls could make bright daylight seem like it was night. She fought against the arm that held her, and managed a hard smack against her assailant's face. She was let go and the sudden lack of support caused her to fall into the wall behind her. To her surprise her abductor wasn't some large, burly man; he was quite handsome and only looked about seventeen or eighteen.

"Careful there chickie," he said, rubbing his cheek. "You ought'ta be careful about who you go around slappin'. Could get yourself in troubles." His voice spoke as if they were merely joking around, but his eyes spoke volumes and only sent one message to Zoey's brain: Dangerous. She decided not to answer, she didn't know what he wanted from her but she doubted she could defend herself without any of the Brooklyn Boys.

"So this here's the famous Brooklyn girl, eh?" He took a step closer. "Spot Conlon's got himself a new pet, well that can't be that much fun of a job, considering his abundant attitude towards the ladies…" He drifted off and she couldn't help but notice that while his accent was strong, his grammar and vocabulary made him sound educated.

"I'm nobody's pet," she replied, trying to put as much venom into her words as possible. "So if you don't mind, I'm leaving. Lovely cha-" Her steps towards the entrance to the alley were halted by the boy's arm.

"Then how'd you like to do business with me?" he asked, his smile still failing to slip from his face.

"Who _are_ you?"

"Keep an eye on Spot, and I'll make it worth your while." His eyes flashed as if daring her to reject his offer.

She straightened her back and stood her ground. "No thank you." She made sure there could be no mistaking her tone.

"We'll just have to see if you'll change your mind next time I ask, won't we?"

Zoey tried not to shake, she resisted the impulse to squeeze her eyes shut and crouch down. "It won't," she said.

There it was, just a little twitch in the corner of his mouth. So his smile was false, she thought. Good.

"Thank you for your time, Miss Zoey." he gave a gallant mock bow, and spun on his heel, walking down the street with his cap pulled low.

She could see the docks, and distantly hear some of the boys jabbering about an interesting sale they had made. She climbed down a ladder and walked down one boardwalk, following her ears. When she came upon the boys, some of them quieted down, but resumed their conversation all the same. Long legs nodded to his left, as if he knew why she was here.

She didn't know why she felt unsettled to see Spot, maybe it was because of his witnessing her at her weakest. She took a deep breath and made her way through small groups of boys to the end of the dock where a pile a crates sat. Spot sat on top of one, aiming at something with a slingshot. A second later she heard a bottle shatter somewhere behind her. A few of the older boys sat around him also, chatting and laughing loudly.

"You look lost, Dizzy." Zoey hadn't realized she was looking at her feet until his voice made her look again. She searched his face to see if he was going to treat her different from now on, but she saw none. The message was clear, no one would know and it wasn't a big deal. Perfect. She gestured with her thumb towards an overhang that looked more private. Spot rose his eyebrows as if to say 'why should I?' It only took one serious look from her though to get him reluctantly moving.

"Whaddya want?" His hands stuck in his pockets, leaning against a wooden pole with his cap tilted slightly to the side… it amazed her all over again. Another time.

"Some guy picked me off the street earlier. Know anything about it?"

Spot's eyes widened, then narrowed in anger. "What are you talkin' about? None of my boys would dare-"

"I don't think it was one of your boys, cupcake."

He rose an eyebrow. " _Cupcake_?"

She shrugged in return. "Dizzy?"

He ignored her. "What did he look like? What'd he say?"

"He was tall, but not as tall as Long-legs, and had dark blonde hair… I don't know, it happened really fast."

"Did he say what he wanted with you?" She could sense a storm coming, in the way Spot spoke.

"He…" she paused, wondering if this had been a good idea after all. "He said I should keep an eye on you."

Spot swore and kicked over a small pile of boxes. "What else?"

"I'm- I don't…" His voice was so intense she trembled.

He grabbed her shoulders firmly, giving her a small shake. "What did he say?!"

"Nothing, just that you…" _Had a temper… "_ That I was your new pet or somethin'.

Spot let out a harsh breath. "Fuckin' Harlem!" He began pacing. "Lousy rats, tryin' to infiltrate my territory- _my property."_ He stood still once more, and paused. "I'll kill 'em. Let them try and mess with me again. I've got more boys than they do, we'll soak 'em!" He made as if to head back towards his group, but she stopped him with a hand on the shoulder.

"You can't do that! Starting some sort of war with these kids, what do you think it'll do?"

"I'm not gonna just sit around and let some nobodies disrespect me. Twice in about twentyfour hours too!" He looked her up and down. "You need ta' learn some respect around here. It's a dangerous world on these streets, you wouldn't wanna be left out on 'em." He leered at her, "Somebody not so nice might decide to pick you up insteada me. So don't piss me off."

She smacked him across the left side of his face. "Don't you talk that way to me! I may not be a boy but I'm probably smarter than all of you combined!" _Except in biology…_ "So what, a guy talked to me. I didn't even have to tell you about it! And nothing would have happened because I said no, so just leave it be. And _maybe,_ if you spent more time keeping your 'territory' secure," she said, making quotations with her fingers on territory, "instead of littering this place with broken beer bottles, this wouldn't have had to happen in the first place! I have essentially been through hell and back," she said, only exaggerating a little. "For all I know I _am_ in hell which means I'm gonna be stuck with you for the rest of my days. Do you think I enjoy your stupid James Dean attitude, walking around like you own everything?"

"I _do_ own everything," Spot spoke before she could continue. "I own this whole area, don' matta if I gots the papers to prove it. Everyone knows who I am and who to pay respect to. I. Own. _Everything._ Even you, the looney of the town."

"You know nothing." _Jon Snow._ She really needed to get all these fandoms out of her head. "You own nothing," she said. "You're just a little blip on a timeline, for all you know you may not even exist. And you're definitely no better than everyone else here trying to make a living."

Spot opened his mouth, then shut it again. He was clearly furious beyond belief, and she was terrified. In a moment of heated anger she had forgotten that wasn't just the boy who had somewhat comforted her through her nightmares, but the boy who beat a boy senseless with a golden-tipped cane. He moved and Zoey flinched in response, sure that he was going to throw her in the water- dead or alive.

He walked away, his stance that of a person to be feared. It was clear how he had become leader. He didn't just become a favorite, he had fought his way to the top. She couldn't see him anymore, and when he had been out of sight for about a minute she sank to her knees. Soon her whole body was shaking with sobs, she wanted her bed, she wanted Clarice, and her cat, and to be honest she could definitely use a margarita or two. Or three. She was probably missing what would be her English class right about now, she had a paper that was due in three days, 'What is Happiness'. Clarice had shaken her head when Zoey told her the title, because of course only she would pick a subject on something like that.

Eventually when she was all dried out, and weak with a headache, she looked up. Long-legs stood, watching her with a careful expression. His arms were crossed and it looked like he would rather be anywhere than where he was right now.

"What's up?" she asked, trying to crack a smile. He stood still and didn't say anything, only shaking his head. Slowly she stood up, wobbling on her legs that had fallen asleep under her.

"No offense Long-legs, but I'd like to be alone," she said. She brushed off her knees and wiped her eyes. No makeup today had been a good idea.

Long-legs shook his head again.

"Listen, nows not a good time, so bother me later, okay?" Her voice sounded like shit, even to herself.

Long-legs sighed and gestured forward, past him. Zoey stared hard at him.

"What's going on? At least tell me."

Long-legs held out his hands in a helpless gesture, shaking his head all the while.

'I can't.' seemed to be the only message he was capable of sending. Zoey was filled with a rage. "Take me to Spot. _Now._ " That seemed to be something that Long-legs could do, and his face looked relieved. He quickly climbed up the ladder and together in silence they made their way back to the boarding house. Even though Zoey knew the building was filled with many boys, it seemed eerily empty and dark.

Zoey shoved past Long-legs and pushed open the door forcefully with a twist of the knob. There were only a few boys in the lounge room, all of whom lowered their eyes and didn't look at her. She recognized one that she had been introduced to some way or another, a ginger boy with fine features. Zoey caught his gaze but he quickly shook his head in an alarmed way and directed his gaze elsewhere.

It was obvious to Zoey that they were too scared to speak to her. And she had an idea why. She marched past the waiting Long-legs and walked up the stairs, to where she knew he'd be waiting. Her hand was stretched out, ready to pound on the dingy green door until he came out to get his ass kicked. She was a step away from the door when she heard moans and other… un-holy noises that she'd rather not hear now.

Disgusting. Her stomach roiled and her head hurt, maybe the coffee she had brewed this morning had been bad. Deep inside Zoey knew that wasn't it, but she didn't have time for that now. Who cares? She thought, _He's not even real._ She shook her thoughts away and pounded on the door.

"Scram!" she heard Spot shout in an annoyed voice. Zoey stayed, and hit her fist upon the door again, trying to block out the girl's voice she also heard through the door.

She heard a muffled grumbling and what sounded like someone getting up from a bed. Her stomach turned once more, the back of her brain telling her this was a bad idea and that she should leave. She had felt like this the first time she stole her mom's second car for the night, when she was fifteen. A large part of her wanted to run- now, but it was too late. The door opened and a girl maybe a year younger than Zoey scurried out of the room, a deep blush in her cheeks. Zoey rose her eyebrows as Spot leant against the door, messily put on trousers and an unbuttoned shirt.

For a moment Zoey was lost in thought, she still couldn't get over how different clothes were here. Despite his status on the social food-chain Spot dressed more nicely than most teenagers she had met. His hair was unruly though, and while not dirty his face didn't have the beautiful clean pores and light skin she was used to seeing. His mouth… was smirking at her in a way that set her bones on fire. Zoey crossed her arms in a defensive manner and set her best glare on him. She just couldn't believe how full of himself he was, and without any shame. She'd known boys _and_ girls like him before. Zoey could see it in all his manners, he got any girl he wanted and people usually listened to what he said, like a natural gravitational point. Except it didn't scare her.

 _Because she was like_ him.

All her life, until she forcibly made herself unpopular. Clarice had once described it as being in the presence of royalty, people were just drawn to her. So if anyone is a match for him… _it's me,_ she thought.

Even she couldn't stare him down very long though, his eyes held a spark she had lost long ago. She didn't hid from his gaze, but it did unnerve her. If she stared at him long enough he no longer seemed human. When she looked at him two words popped into her mind, neither quite fully becoming; _Beautiful_ \- said one part of her mind, the other said: _Twat_.

"So whaddaya want?" he asked, in a carefree tone. He spoke as if she hadn't interrupted -well- what she interrupted, and like they hadn't just shouted words at each other only an hour or so ago.

"An explanation," she said. "For why Long-legs is more silent than usual, and to know why your boys act like they'll spontaneously combust if they look me in the eye."

She took satisfaction in the way his face went screwy for a second when she used terms he wasn't familiar with. Zoey made a mental note of words and terms that could confuse him in the future. ' _Ratchet, 'Aint nobody got time', subtweet, Miley Cyrus…'_

"Maybe 'cos they're smart."

"So what, I tell you what's right one time and now you're gonna 'soak' anybody who wants to speak to me?" The nerve. She knew fourth graders who were more mature than him- strike that- kindergartners.

"Let's just call it a coincidence." So anyone who talks to her would 'just happen' to have a black eye the next morning?

"Why not just make it official, huh? You might as well."

"Because it's not fun that way."

"Who do you think you are, Peter-fucking-Pan?! You're acting like a child!"

"Well you're acting like a idiot!"

She took a deep breath. "It's _an_ idiot, and you might know that if you weren't one yourself!"

"How abouts I just throw you on the street then, huh? We'll see how long you last."

Zoey knew her eyes were about to shoot firebolts. "Anything on the street must be better than here. Maybe I'll go to that guy, what'd you say- a _Harlem boy?_ Maybe he'd be more inclined to my opinion of things."

In a second he was in front of her, fingers gripping her chin. Zoey's heart beat wildly and her eyes squeezed closed momentarily of their own accord, but she didn't let loose a sound. She looked defiantly into Spot Conlon's eyes.

"Just try it," he said. "I dare you. See how long you last ova there. Theyse nothin' but trash."

"I don't know," she said her voice raised and sarcastic. "He seemed awful nice, and well dressed too. Actually quite handsome, I'd give him a 8.5 out of-"

He let go of her chin, a murderous look of disgust upon his visage. "Go then," he said. "Go and try it."

Zoey took a shaky step backwards, but her face never faltered. "Maybe I will."

She walked the few steps to where the stairs led down to the main room. Her hair wasn't particularly bouncy or shiny thanks to no conditioner, but it was still voluminous and she flipped it over her shoulder the best she could as she turned to look at him an eyebrow raised in a defiant glare that she knew would strike him to the bone.

"Bye Felicia."


	7. My Poor Feet

Okay so: I dont have any good excuse for waiting this long to update but I promise you I WAS WRITING. I had a whole other chapter and a half written after the point that this chapter ends. Unfortunately it is gone for some reason and I can't find it anywhere so it may just have to be rewritten. Thankyou for your patience, here's chapter seven.

CHAPTER 7

Zoey was thinking that maybe she shouldn't have yelled at Spot. The Brooklyn newsie boys were just as silent when she left as they had been when she arrived. She was pretty sure she heard a loud, angry shout and a thumping sound come from above just as she opened the door to outside. It was probably about five o'clock, and her stomach growling grotesquely reminded her exactly how long it had been since she ate.

She was relieved that it wasn't her feelings that felt bad about dumping on Spot but instead just her hunger and sense of self preservation. She didn't have money, not anything that she could use anyways. That thought lit a spark inside her. _Her bag._ Everything she owned was still inside the boarding house. This was the last straw for her, for a reason unknown Zoey's heart filled with irrational anger and annoyance.

Zoey turned around, stood tall, and stormed down the street, making her way back to the lodging house. She didn't knock as she burst through the doors. She briefly noticed several boys drop their jaws in the middle of conversation, but she walked on by. One boy about Long-legs' height moved as if to stop her from going upstairs, but one hard look sent him back into his seat.

She made her way to the smallest bunk room and grabbed her knapsack, and phone charger (useless as it was) and spun on her heel making sure she hadn't missed anything. But of course… she had. As soon as she realized it was missing she remembered exactly where it was. Zoey's footsteps echoed off the thin walls. Last night when she was woken up and moved she had grabbed a teenager's most precious item without even thinking about it.

Zoey reached the nasty green door and decided it would be best to act as she had been for the past five minutes. She all but threw open the door, and walked into the bedroom as if it were her own. Zoey didn't know it but words were already on her lips as she stood with her hands on her hips and chin held high.

"Where's my phone?"

Spot's mouth was curled into a small sneer, though surprise still marred most of his face. "You're what?"

Zoey looked past him and to his right, seeing her shiny purple a white phone case on the window sill. "Never mind." She took a few steps and snatched her phone, her mood lightening considerably.

"Don't you have some Harlem boys to be makin' eyes at?" Spot taunted from behind her.

"None of your business Mr. Mob Boss."

She spun on her heel and left the way she came, walking tall and steady. Zoey doubted whether she would even be scared to run into one of the Harlem boys that had tried to mug her last night. The boys were done eating an early dinner, and Zoey saw a thick piece of bread and a couple apples that must have been left over. She snatched both up, knowing none of the boys would talk to her even if they objected.

Zoey ate as she walked, listening happily as her phone and other modern objects clanked every so often on the small bottle of whiskey she had packed to go to Clarice's. She didn't open it though, no matter how strong the urge. She was a lot of things, but she wasn't a day drinker. Yet. It was only when she made it maybe a mile's walk away from the lodging house that her moneyless position bothered her.

She mindlessly twisted the ring around her finger then caught herself staring at it. It could be worth… Zoey shook her head. No. If they could survive on their own she could too.

"And the girl is conflicted," a drawling voice spoke from her left. Zoey rolled her eyes.

"I'm not," she said. "Because I still don't want to hang around losers- that list just so happens yourself and Spot as well, now." She turned around, unsurprised to see the boy that Spot had deemed from 'Harlem'. "What do you want?"

"Just a nice conversation with a pretty lady."

"Because those are _so_ hard to find in these parts."

"Well these ain't my parts," he said, looking down at her with hard eyes. "So actually, it is."

Zoey stared back, through with being intimidated by average scum. "Not my problem."

"But it could be."

"You know…" drawled Zoey, matching the newsie's attitude, "Harlem isn't even an actual borough." She rested her weight against the brick wall beside her casually. "Shouldn't you basically belong to Manhattan?"

The boy gritted his teeth slightly in what Zoey guessed to be annoyance. "You should watch who you speak to that way. Not all Harlem boys are as nice as I am."

As if she didn't know, she was born and bred New Yorker, and it seemed like things weren't all that different in the past from the present. People thinking they were badass simply because of where they live.

She mock saluted the nameless boy and began walking in her original direction. She had a feeling he wouldn't try to stop her, and she was right. Zoey glanced slightly behind her and he was gone.

She didn't know how long it was before she finally got to the Manhattan lodging house, but her hands were chilled and her feet hurt. A warm glow could be seen through the windows, conversation and laughter drifting out into the street. For the first time since she had been interrupted by the rogue newsboy, Zoey paused. She had no idea if she'd be able to stay here. She recalled that only a day or so ago the lodge house had been completely full.

Either way she had nowhere else to go, so Zoey took a deep breath and opened the door. Immediately an object bumped into her, causing her to almost fall down and close her eyes reflexively. She felt a hand on either of her shoulders, holding her steady. Part of her brain rose in excitement at the thought of the person being Skittery.

When Zoey opened her eyes though, it was the smiling gaze of Christian Bale, _Jack Kelly-_ staring back at her. She gave a grateful smile in return, allowing him to step back while leading her into the room where all of the boys she had seen the other night chatted.

"What brings you ta this neighborhood?" Jack asked in a friendly manner, looking behind her as if he was expecting Spot and his crew to be there as well. "What's Spot up to? I didn't know we were having a party tonight."

Zoey rubbed her arm nervously. "We're not, at least he's not- well, maybe he is. But not here! I mean…" She shook her head. She could do this. It can't be that hard to talk to someone, and Jack sounded like a reasonable person. She took a deep breath and said, "Spot doesn't know I'm here."

Jack's eyes widened then narrowed and his eyebrows scrunched together a bit as he seemed to realize what was going on.

"Do you think… I could stay here?" Zoey asked, wary of her words. She knew the head of Brooklyn and the head of Manhattan were close friends- or at the very least, close colleagues.

Jack sighed, but a small smile was present on his face. "Yeah, youse can stay here. What'd that big dummy do now, then?" His eyes held laughter as he swung an arm around her shoulders and steered her towards a small group of the guys.

Skittery gave her a shy smile when he caught sight of her, Boots and Race greeted her loudly while others waved. Zoey could feel the warmth of the room and couldn't help but let her face break into a wide smile.

"Does Spot-o know youse is here?" Race asked. "I thought we wasn't getting together until next week."

"Spot could care less where I am right now. He probably thinks I'm in Harlem," she said, trying not to let bitterness deep into her voice.

"Why would he think that?" Jack leant against the railing of one bunk bed. Despite his casual stance, she saw him stiffen unconsciously when the rogue area was mentioned.

Zoey rubbed her arm a bit ashamedly, and mumbled, " 'Cause I told him that's where I was goin'."

"And he jus' let youse walk away?!" Race shouted, causing her to jump. Many of the boys were grumbling now, whether because she had lied to Spot on her whereabouts, or the fact Spot had let her leave.

She nodded and ducked her head by way of answering. Then the room exploded into uproar.

"No good, lousy ass-" from Skittery.

"Dangerous,"

"Harlem Jack! Cowboy can you _believe-"_

"Ah-right, Ah-rights, Calm down all of you's!" Jack shouted over the sudden clamor. He took a deep breath and addressed the whole crowd, but only looked at Zoey. "I'll figure out the details in da morning, after we sell our papes. Zoey can sleep here tonight, and for as long as it's needed, but 'ventually," he said, nodding to her, "youse gonna have ta pay your own way here."

Zoey shook her head in agreement, she knew the boys worked hard for their lodging.

An awkward silence followed Jack's announcement, and some of the boys looked uncertainly at each other. Zoey shuffled her feet.

"Well," Race spoke with his voice raised and clear. "We've got a new house-mate, and a lady at that!" He winked at Zoey. "This calls for a celebration, eh?!"


End file.
